This time, Alessia’s behavior was completely out of character. Kanata had already braced herself for mockery, humiliation, and a brutal verbal dressing-down. She knew it was all her own doing—the Sovereign’s cold treatment had long been routine.
Well then. Let the storm rage on. Even a blizzard would be fine.
“How could Teacher have raised someone so hopeless…? Even a piece of roast pork would’ve been better than you.”
With her usual sharp tongue, the Sovereign abruptly shifted tone. “Never mind. It’s not entirely hopeless. I’ve heard of some obscure methods—unorthodox techniques, you might say—that can suppress lycanthropy symptoms.”
She nibbled the nail of her left thumb. “It’s about natural opposition. Something we learned in class. Not elemental, like water and fire—but biological. In the wild, if infected by a virus, consuming the blood of its natural predator can ease the symptoms.”
In other words: the vampire virus in my system might slightly neutralize the lycanthropy virus in yours. Our kinds are inherently opposed—like oil and water. It sounded utterly far-fetched. No one had ever tried it. But Kanata’s infection had been triggered and accelerated the moment Alessia bit her lip and drew blood. Alessia wanted to try it anyway: if Kanata drank her blood in return, would it suppress the transformation?
This would bind them tightly together—truly, inextricably. Each becoming essential to the other. A so-called “community of shared destiny.” Alessia didn’t mind. In fact, she felt glad. Kanata? Hard to say. This girl had been eccentric and stubborn since childhood. To become mutually dependent with the one she saw as her “father’s killer”… undeniably cruel.
“I think I’ve said enough. You should understand what I mean…”
Alessia studied Kanata’s face, carefully tracking every flicker of expression. It had been a very, very long time since she’d spoken to anyone with such gentle, considerate words. This atmosphere wasn’t the place to wound fragile self-esteem further. Push too hard, and the damage would be irreversible. Kanata’s father was a cautionary tale. Had they not pressured him, he might never have chosen ruin.
“So… you’re saying you can help me?”
Head still bowed through Alessia’s explanation, Kanata finally lifted her gaze with a lazy motion, her voice laced with utter disbelief. She trusted no one now. Dared not trust anyone. The fact that Nozomi couldn’t see her as a person left her deeply disheartened. She felt so withdrawn she just wanted to curl up in a dark, lightless cave.
“If I don’t help you… what becomes of me? After all—you are the Falling Cherry City Sovereign’s exclusive Bloodbond Thrall, Kanata Himemiya.”
In that uniquely tender silence, Alessia gently drew Kanata into her arms. “I’m truly sorry about your infection. But it’s not without solutions. Even if a full cure isn’t possible… I’ll make sure you can stay here. I promise.”
She’d made a similar vow to Teacher long ago: protect his two children, let them grow safely in Falling Cherry City until they could stand on their own, then set them free. Halfway through that promise, Alessia had broken it—forcibly turning Kanata, still just a girl, into her Bloodbond Thrall. Yet she had no intention of ever letting Kanata go.
